


Bind

by Morninglight (orphan_account)



Series: Commander and Commanded [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, F/M, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Rope Bondage, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:33:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6258391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Morninglight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The burnt orange and black rope looked good against her skin. He would bind her with more than rope when this war was done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bind

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Trigger warning for mentions of death, violence and fantastic racism. Dammit, ‘Keep and Protect’ wants a sequel… Rope bondage and dom/sub dynamics in this story.

 

It had been three weeks since Arthur Maxson had bent her over the end of a bed and fucked her. The war against the Institute continued apace with the Beryllium agitator acquired to power up Liberty Prime and with the end in sight, the Brotherhood of Steel turned its eyes away from a failed Knight who’d been bucked over to the Scribes to the battles ahead. The removal of their disapproval – especially after the Elder himself admitted to putting her into a difficult situation without proper support – eased a lot of her burdens. But as the tension gyred into and around Arthur as he prepared for the greatest fight of his life, Sparrow saw that his own burdens increased and that there was no one to help bear them. Not that she could, of course, help shoulder them – but she _could_ release his tension for a few hours if he needed it.

            If he wanted it.

            It was no great problem to swap shifts with a Lancer, to mop the floors of the barracks from one end to the other. A couple Knights threw contemptuous glances but, if nothing else, her silent endurance of the shaming had won back some of the Brotherhood rank-and-file’s respect. She hadn’t failed in loyalty – that they knew of – but in conviction, all because a dirty synth had taken advantage of a pre-War civilian and Arthur Maxson’s trust. The general consensus seemed to be that Danse would have carried her to a high rank, until she was trusted, and then abandoned the order – and probably left Sparrow holding the bag.

            She didn’t correct them. Better to be thought of as naïve and easily duped than to be known as a fool who was forgiven by Arthur because he cared for her.

            Unless there was an emergency, Arthur was like clockwork – Sparrow was just finishing with the rinsing of mop and bucket, leaving them for the next shift’s cleaner, as he strode up with a grim expression on his face. Few Brotherhood members lingered on this side of the ship, where the Star Paladins and Elder Maxson himself slept, and so they were alone as old Brandis had been cycled back into the field and Rhys now led Recon Squad Gladius. “What the hell is going on?” he snarled. “I gave orders for the shaming to stop-“

            “I swapped a shift,” Sparrow interrupted, lowering her gaze a little. When she acted submissive, exhausted, Arthur’s possessive instincts appeared to be triggered. He needed to release the tension in every line of his broad frame somehow and she had no other ideas.

            The exhaustion, at least, wasn’t a lie. The barracks were filthy because apparently no one taught the Knights how to wipe their fucking boots.

            And neither was the submission. Being freed of the need to make heavy decisions had been the best thing to happen to her, even if it meant counting out boxes of Instamash under Knight-Captain Gavel’s stern gaze. With Initiate Clarke thrown in the brig for feeding ghouls – Sparrow couldn’t bear to execute a man for a similar sin to hers as she wasn’t that much of a hypocrite – someone had to take his job in Logistics. And Sparrow found she liked it there.

            The Elder was no fool. “Brotherhood members, even the lowest Initiate, can request a private meeting with their Elder if they need it,” he finally said. “I expected you two weeks ago.”

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was to have weekly… debriefs… with you, Elder,” she retorted. He wanted discretion, didn’t he?

            “I don’t particularly appreciate your insubordinate tone,” Arthur responded in a flat rasp and Sparrow flashed him a look from under her eyelashes. Had she gone too far?

            His blue eyes burned and she saw the bulge in his uniform.

            “I’m sorry, Elder Maxson,” she murmured.

            “I’ve just realised that no one has ever sat you down and given you the lessons in Brotherhood basics that the least of our Squires and Initiates receive,” he continued. “Seeing as we’re both at liberty, I’ll have to remedy that.”

            He strode past her and opened the door to his quarters. Sparrow walked in and heard the door lock closed behind her. She remained facing the bed, wondering how she’d be laid across it today, as he moved around and shucked the heavy weight of his battlecoat to toss it on the desk, judging by the rattle.

            “I thought I’d frightened you off,” Arthur finally admitted. “Three weeks and you hadn’t come to me…”

            “I’m doing better now,” Sparrow answered, not looking over her shoulder. He was standing behind her. “How are you coping with the imminent attack?”

            “Coping,” he observed. “If you don’t need me, why are you here?”

            “Because you’re too tense and I thought…” She trailed off. It sounded dafter when she uttered the words than it did when she swapped the shift.

            His fingers wound through her hair, undoing the bun she generally wore. “You thought?”

            “That you might want to… ease some of it,” she finished roughly.

            With her hair down, his fingers went to the front of her uniform, using the ring pull to open it. Her breasts, not confined by a bra today, spilled out as he tugged down the top to trap her arms with her sleeves. “You _have_ planned for today,” Arthur noted hoarsely.

            “You didn’t look happy today,” she countered.

            Arthur began to thumb her nipples until they were stiff, then pinched them lightly and she moaned in pleasure-pain. “Are you wearing panties?”

            “Yes, because down there chafes like hell.”

            “Pity. I would have liked to open up the bottom flap and finger you,” he murmured.

            “Like me bent over and bound then?” Sparrow challenged. Just because she liked him to make the orders in the bedroom didn’t mean she’d yield her will to him easily.

            “I like your arms bound,” he readily admitted. “But I think, if you’d like, I’ll make it easier for you by letting you lie on your back.”

            Sparrow remembered the bruise left by his bed’s foot-rail and nodded. “Yes, please.”

            He stepped in and planted a kiss on her shoulder, smiling against the skin. “You do so much to please me, though you don’t know it, outside of this room. I would return that to you in here.”

            “By tying me up?”

            “By making you unable to do anything but enjoy yourself,” Arthur said, mouthing at the side of her neck. “If it gets too much for you, say ‘Bravo’ and I will stop.”

            “Yes, Arthur,” she agreed. Even a subtle allusion to Danse would be enough to kill the mood. She decided to save it for the most desperate of occasions.

            “Good.” He pulled her arms out of the uniform’s sleeves, massaging her shoulders gently. “How do you prefer your arms tied?”

            “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Nate and I never…”

            Nate had treated her as fragile. Arthur was considerate and possessive, but he assumed that she could handle whatever he threw at her.

            “You know how I said I was going to give you a lesson in the Brotherhood basics?” Arthur asked as he turned her around.

            “…Yes.”

            “I’m going to demonstrate how to properly use a knot.” His smile was wicked and she shuddered in pleasure.

            No, Sparrow wasn’t one for pain but she definitely liked the idea of being at Arthur’s mercy. She held out her hands and he chuckled softly. “Lay on the bed, love,” he commanded.

            She obeyed – kicking off her boots first – and watched him rummage around before producing a hank of slick nylon rope. “Fuck, I only have the one,” he swore under his breath as he unwound it. The rope was about ten feet long but very narrow. “Unless…”

            Arthur turned around and guided Sparrow’s arms until they were outstretched at roughly shoulder-height, using a half-hitch knot around her right wrist, running the rope under his double bed, and finishing off with another half-hitch around her left. “Can you move?” he asked, watching her.

            “A little.” Sparrow raised her arms, the slack in the rope letting her move the limbs somewhat to ease strain but not enough to escape.

            “Perfect.” Arthur knelt between her legs to tug off socks, panties and the bottom half of her uniform, tossing each item of clothing aside. There was something erotic about being undressed by the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel while he remained fully clothed.

            When he was done, he frowned slightly before positioning his comfy pillow under her head to ease the strain on her neck. “Perfect,” he repeated. “Safe and sound in my bed.”

            “Am I?” she asked up at him.

            “Always,” he confirmed before lowering his mouth to her sex and sucking her clit lightly.

            Sparrow arched her back with a sharp gasp, moaning at the twist of heat in her belly. Arthur laughed softly and began to eat her out in earnest until she was moaning his name helplessly.

…

Fuck, the taste of her was almost as sweet as the gasps and moans she made as she wriggled against the bonds.

            Three weeks of whetting his appetite by reading particular books while he waited for her to come to him had given Arthur several ideas on how to handle his and Sparrow’s relationship. He should have let her choose the safeword but the thought it could be Danse was painful to contemplate. Bravo was hard enough to throw cold water on his ardour but neutral enough he could bear it.

            He could see the last remnants of the bruise from the bed railing and felt a moment of guilt. Still fired up over Listening Post Bravo and the thought of Sparrow being thrown into a situation she shouldn’t have because of a fucking synth, he’d pushed her to prove she loved him, pushed to bury himself in that wet heat. Tonight, she’d come out of concern for _him_ and he would repay that by focusing on her pleasure.

            When she came with a cry, he licked his lips and looked up at her. Sparrow looked wanton and sated, her coral-hued lips parted, eyes half-lidded and hazy. Suddenly his uniform was too tight and had to come off.

            One day, when the Institute was bombed into oblivion and the crater sown with salt, he would be able to spend a whole night pleasuring Sparrow and learning the map of her body as thoroughly as he did any other terrain. He’d have the credibility he so desperately needed then. Until that time, he’d need to be content with stolen hours.

            Still, Arthur had the time to leave red marks all over her breasts, a thigh between Sparrow’s legs to work her up into another writhing mess. God, the burnt orange and black nylon rope looked good against her rosy skin, tanned on her face and hands. He needed to get more rope to wrap around her neck and torso like a harness, maybe a strand through her legs so that she could be clitorally stimulated while he nuzzled her breasts.

            Once Sparrow was slick enough for his liking, Arthur slid his arms under her legs until her knees were bent and resting in the crook of his elbows, burying himself to the balls in her. She pulled herself up onto the pillow a bit and he groaned at the change in position. Sparrow was flexible to be able to do that with her wrists bound. That was impressive.

            He leaned down to kiss her as his hips started thrusting, unable to withstand the feeling of Sparrow’s pussy. It was a little awkward to get the deep, driving thrusts that he preferred, but the shorter, shallower ones were just as pleasant, Sparrow’s clit in easy reach as he fingered her.

            Fuck, it was good just to have something he could tend to, something that was as enjoyable for him as it was for someone else. He felt a little awful to think of Sparrow as his just as he did the Prydwen or his battlecoat but she appeared to welcome it.

            She came once more, constricting about his cock, and Arthur hurriedly pulled out before he spilt in her. Fuck, he wanted to. Wanted to replace everything that the Institute had taken from her. No – wanted to give her better. Maybe not technology-wise, but he wouldn’t leave her to care for a child alone during a war.

            He watched his seed spill on her birth-wrinkled belly and breasts before undoing the half-hitch knots one-handed as the Knight who taught the Squire and Initiates had made sure he could do. Sparrow rolled her shoulders with a bit of a grimace and looked down at the rope burn on her wrists. “Shit…”

            Arthur reluctantly got out of bed to get a stimpak to heal them. “Sorry,” he apologised.

            “Don’t be. It was pretty amazing.” Sparrow laughed and let him inject her. “Feel a little less tense?”

            “I do,” Arthur admitted with a smile. He then found a clean rag, wet it and wiped down Sparrow’s breasts and belly. “When the war is over, I hope to do this often.”

            “I’d like that,” Sparrow agreed softly. Then her posture tensed, expression sobering. “Arthur, I need to be in the ground force for the invasion into the Institute.”

            He stopped wiping. “Like hell.”

            “Yes, you’ll blast a big hole into the ceiling, but I know that place inside and out,” she pointed out calmly. “Whose son took her for a guided tour, hmm?”

            He’d shoved it aside that from Sparrow’s womb came the pestilential Director of the Institute. “Your son died when he was stolen,” he told her harshly. “As for the rest of it… You’re tactically correct, unfortunately. I will be at your side every step of the way.”

            “I understand,” Sparrow answered, lowering her eyes. “And… you’re right about Shaun. Doesn’t make it hurt any less that I’m helping to kill him though.”

            Arthur sighed. It wasn’t Sparrow’s fault. And mothers were supposed to love their children no matter what.

            “I guess it wouldn’t,” he finally conceded. Then he kissed down the side of her neck and to the shoulder, where he sucked until a purple bruise formed. He liked the idea of her marked as his.

            “I should go,” Sparrow said reluctantly.

            “Unfortunately, yes,” Arthur agreed with another sigh. He stole another kiss from Sparrow before letting her go.

            She pulled on her clothing and left, smiling her farewell and mouthing “I love you.”

            Arthur leaned back against his pillow and stroked the cock still covered in Sparrow’s juices. Sometimes he just imagined being an ordinary Paladin or even a Wastelander. It wouldn’t matter who he fucked then.

            Sparrow was his and the idea of sneaking around angered him. But it had to be done until the war was won.

            His cock stiffened in his hand as he imagined her, wrapped in regulation burnt orange and black rope, driving herself to completion as he sucked on those nipples. Fuck, she’d be slicker than the Prydwen’s flight deck in a radstorm.

            Twice they’d fucked and he wanted more. One day, when this war was over, he would take an entire cycle of shifts off just to explore her body, to see how she would submit to him. He’d come in her then, fuck her until she was pregnant with his child, mark her as his for all the Brotherhood to see.

            He only needed to remove the last of the Institute, the last of the filthy machines and their creators who inspired pity in her. Arthur couldn’t stop her for mourning for Shaun but he could bind her with more than rope to him, to the Brotherhood.

            A few firm strokes and he came, seed splattering his sheets. One day they’d lie there together, stuck together with more than mingled fluids, and he’d know that everything was as it should be.

            One day soon…


End file.
